Wednesday, December 5, 2007

Roses and Plums

//roses and plums

ROSES and PLUMS

Mockingbirds trill.A country stone wall with grass on one side,and an old steep-roofed housewhere roses climb;on the other a streamwith darting life in sun-dappled water under bay trees and oaks.One side is mowed,kempt, the otherspawns a wilderness.One is cafe au laitwith croissants and jamand a cozy old couple in the shadeof a dark-green, shiny magnolia tree;the other is chewydark bread with smelly cheeseand strong, dark tea and an old manweeding stones from the field for the rest of the wall while his old wife leaps as high as she can,picking plums from an old plum treefor their afternoon tea.On the side of the grass, roses bloom,and nasturtiums climb on the side ofa shed; on the side of the stream,buckeyes wither, dropping their yellowleaves, no sign yet of their big glossy brown nuts. The old man weeding stones looksat his old leaping wife and says, “If Iwere starting over, I’d still choose you.”She says, “I would you too.”The other couple overhears and nods contentedly.